The Worst Kind of Favor
by mirandler43
Summary: Severus Snape believed his debt to Dumbledore to be paid after his service in the war. However, Dumbledore has one more thing for him to do, and to do it, he needs the help of a certain know it all. In response to The Roadtrip Challenge on WIKTT.
1. Chapter 1

_Knock, knock._

"Enter."

Severus Snape opened the door to the Headmaster's office slowly, taking care to note his surroundings. As of late Albus Dumbledore had become utterly fascinated by Muggle technology and inventions, and the last time Snape had been summoned to his office, a toy airplane had flown into his head. Certain that there were no flying obstacles in his path, he made his way over to Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore presently had strained expression on his face and was valiantly trying place the needle of a record player on the spinning record but kept scratching it instead. Scattered around him lay several other records, most with deep gauges in them, and what appeared to be part of a Muggle newspaper with something circled in red.

Snape summoned a chair for himself, prepared for yet another session of listening to Dumbledore ramble about the latest Muggle invention he had discovered. Last time his focus had been on flight, which had subsequently led to the airplane incident and a rather tender bump on Snape's head. After about a minute of watching Dumbledore attempt to play his record, Snape conjured up a glass of firewhiskey that was charmed to look like water, took a hefty swig, and settled back in his chair. _Let's get this over with_.

"Where did you get the machine?"

Without looking up at him, a patiently frustrated Dumbledore pushed the newspaper towards Snape with his free hand. Looking at the circled text, Snape asked, "And the records as well?"

Dumbledore nodded absently. "Estate sales are fantastic. You can find anything."

Snape stared blankly at the newspaper, not caring what it said, then sighed and put it back on Dumbledore's desk.

"Headmaster, was there anything in particular--"

He was cut off by trumpets and a very loud baritone voice followed by Dumbledore's satisfied yelp of victory. Quickly turning down the music, Dumbledore spread his arms wide and gleefully stated, "This, my friend, is a _record player_."

"Yes, sir, I know wha-"

"And these round things are called _records_."

"Yes, I kn-"

"And the man who is singing is known by Muggles as _Frank Sinatra_."

Sigh.

As Dumbledore launched into the biography of Sinatra and his role in American music, Snape took another drink of "water". He had endured three weeks of this Muggle obsession and lectures about various tools and concepts. Dumbledore, for reasons merely known to himself, subjected only Snape to his near daily regailings and fully expected him to share his enthusiasm. He had to take part in experiments; only once had he drawn the line, when Dumbledore had wanted him to model clothes from the American 1970s. The record player was, in fact, fairly tame compared to some of the other objects of past interest.

"And a few years before Sinatra, there was this fellow called _Elvis_, and young people really liked him, but their parents thought he was too risqué because of his crazy pelvic thrusting"

Snape hurriedly interrupted Dumbledore, who had risen to demonstrate just what "pelvic thrusting" looked like. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me, sir? Because I have a potion that needs to be stirred once every forty minutes, and we're coming up on minute forty-three now."

"Oh, yes. I do need to talk to you." Dumbledore turned down the record player a little more, then shifted to look Snape in the eye. "Severus."

"Yes."

"Severus, I'm in love with the eighties."

_Oh, God._

"To be more specific, I'm in love with the American eighties."

_Oh, no._ Snape did not know what Dumbledore was up to, but he knew that look, and it meant that he wanted Snape to do something for him.

"Severus, I want you to go to America and experience the eighties for me."

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Severus Snape sat with his head face buried in his hands, having given up his usual emotionless composure. Why him? During the war, he had selflessly risked his life for the Order of the Pheonix by becoming Dumbledore's personal spy in the Dark Lord's ranks; with the war now over, he had been looking forward to leading a more simple life with what remained of his reputation in the wizarding world. He had hoped that by now he had repaid whatever debt he owed to Dumbledore. And yet, after six years of misleading tranquility, he was asked for yet another favor, if it could even be called that. A favor implies simplicity. A favor is asking one's neighbor for a cup of flour. A favor does not include traveling thousands of miles for endless days to catch a glimpse of a time two decades past.

Snape looked up at Dumbledore, who was sitting serenly behind his desk with that optimistic, slightly crazed smile firmly in place. "Headmaster…are you su-…do you real-…"

"Yes, I am sure. I want to know everything there is to know and see everything there is to see. Unfortunately, I am too old to travel so extensively. And I am certain you share my belief that the best way to learn is to experience, rather than read." Snape was hurriedly shaking his head, which Dumbledore was conveniently ignoring. "So I have decided that the best solution is to send someone in my place to experience everything for me. I also do not want the information that I will receive to be one-sided, so--"

He was interrupted by the slam of the office door. Hermione Granger, now a woman of twenty-three years, strode into the office with a piece of paper clutched tightly in one hand. The five years since her graduation from Hogwarts had treated her well. Instead of frizzy and dull brown, her hair was now straight with highlights from the sun. While she no longer stuck her nose in the air as she had when she was younger, she still possessed a certain confidence that can only be obtained by assurance of intelligence. She had actually become quite pretty since her adolescent days, growing from the flat-chested teenager of her fourth year into a graceful, curvy young woman.

Said woman now walked directly up to Dumbledore, slammed the paper down on his desk, and promptly shrieked, "I have to do this with HIM?" with a vengeful poke in Snape's direction.

Dumbledore, ever the calm one, said, "Hermione, you are just in time to hear my explanation to Professor Snape. If you will please sit," and summoned her a cushioned chair.

Hermione ignored the chair. "Headmaster, sir, you know that as the professor of Muggle studies of Hogwarts, I am more than happy to conduct this research trip for you. However, when we discussed this, you said nothing of an _escort_."

Dumbledore just smiled and continued talking to Snape as though there had been no interruption. "As I was saying, I would not want this educational information to be one-sided, so I am sending two people on this journey. I want the female perspective as well as the male." Snape just stared bewilderedly back at him. Turning to Hermione, Dumbledore said, "And as for you traveling alone, I would not feel it proper to be sending you to a foreign country without any means of support. I also believe that you, specializing in Muggle study, and Professor Snape, in Potions, will see things very differently, and I can only benefit from two different points of view. Does that answer that question?"

Hermione started to make a retort, but after catching Dumbledore's determined gaze snapped her mouth shut and mutely nodded.

"Now then, to the details—please, dear, sit down—to the details of your journey. You will be traveling by auto, visiting important sites that I have already chosen."

Snape nearly choked in shock. "Auto? Why can we not apparate?"

Dumbledore looked at him as though the answer were obvious. "You cannot apparate because you cannot draw undue attention to yourselves."

Hermione bit back, "Oh, yes, of course, because two foreigners asking about Michael Jackson when he was black won't attract any attention at all!"

"Hermione, please," replied Dumbledore in his most patient of voices. "Now, the summer term is just beginning, so that gives the two of you plenty of time to travel in America and return in time to start classes. I will allow you to apparate to your starting point in Boston, Massachussetts. There is a place much like London's Diagon Alley there where you can arrive inconspicuously. From there, you will rent a car and drive the rest of the way to Los Angeles, California, where you can apparate to Hogwarts. I am not going to prescribe your route, only a few major sites to be visited, therefore you will need to do your research before you leave."

"Which is when?" Hermione interjected.

"Two days time. I will give you a sum of money to sustain you the entire trip. My only other requirements for your journey is that you are gone for at least three weeks," earning a small gasp from Hermione and a groan from Snape, "and that you document everything thoroughly through notes, pictures, and video."

Silence rang through the office. Hermione sat quietly, smoothing out the memo in her hand. Snape suddenly stood and started to pace. Dumbledore watched him serenely, waiting for the inevitable question. Snape did not make him wait long.

"Sir, with all due respect, what is there to force me to do this? I believe I have already fully served you during the war. Why must I do this?"

Finally able to play his trump card, Dumbledore calmly replied, "You must do this because if you refuse, I will give the Defense Against the Dark Arts position to Harry Potter."

Snape rounded on Dumbledore, disbelief showing in his features. A small chuckle surfaced in the room. Snape glared at Hermione, who stifled the rest of her laughter, shrugged her shoulders and said,

"Well, I guess we're going on a roadtrip then, aren't we?"

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**Well, there she be, my first fanfiction! Thanks so much for reading, and please please please give me feedback! I don't care if you hated it, let me know!**

**Also, the expected disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters were used without permission. They are the copyright of J.R. Rowling and Warner Bros. They are used with consideration and with no intent to make money.**


	2. Chapter 2

**It just occurred to me that I didn't make any author notes at all in the last chapter. So here goes:**

**As the reader, you should know that I'm conveniently choosing to ignore the fact that Dumbledore is dead. (I'm in denial, really; I love Snape! I want to believe that he is good and that there is some way that Dumbledore didn't really die. So far I'm sticking with the Polyjuice Potion theory.)**

**I got the idea for this story from a really old challenge on WIKTT. I am in no way claiming the plot as original.**

**Dumbledore is probably going to seem a little OOC. However, by this point he is really old and starting to border on senile; I'm going for the mildly crazy older genius vibe. So with that in mind, hopefully his role in this story won't seem like too much of a stretch. And, well, you never know with Dumbledore. He takes no action without planning out every move first. I am doing my best to keep Snape as in-character as possible, but with some of the rules on the challenge he may seem a little off. This is a humorous story above all, so expect some funny surprises!**

**Okays, on with the story…**

* * *

"Well, I guess we're going on a roadtrip then, aren't we?"

Snape continued to glare at Hermione, his mind hardly comprehending the position he was in. Either he must participate in this absurd "roadtrip", as the know-it-all called it, or he must forfeit the Dark Arts position to Harry Potter, his least favorite student to say the least. He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way to regain the power in this negotiation, but he knew he had no choice. Turning to the headmaster, Snape opened his eyes and nodded his consent.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Dumbledore. Standing abruptly, he turned back to the record player and proceeded to blast "My Funny Valentine", and without any regard to his audience began to softly sway his hips. "This is music that ought to be danced to." Turning swiftly, he looked around in surprise. "I see Severus has already left us. Well, then, may I have this dance, Miss Granger?"

Hermione glanced to her left only to find the chair next to her empty. How had Snape managed to escape the mild insanity that was Dumbledore's office? _Lucky bastard!_ Sighing inwardly, she looked back to Dumbledore with a smile and rose to join him in a slow dance.

* * *

As soon as Dumbledore had began to slightly move in beat with the obnoxiously slow song, Snape had fled the room. Dumbledore in any kind of rhythmic movement was a bad, bad idea, especially sans partner.

It was on pure instinct that Snape ran, the plucking overtones of a cello chasing him down the stairs. He was not afraid of dancing with Dumbledore; no, the old man had forced into situations more humiliating before. He was only afraid that Dumbledore would force him to dance with the girl. Although, Snape admitted inwardly, Hermione Granger was hardly a girl anymore. She was a professor now, a woman, an actual _adult_. Regardless of her age, however, Snape had a difficult time viewing her as a degree-wielding colleague instead of the bushy-haired overconfident first year he had taught so many years ago.

Since the war had ended, Snape had been undeniably alone. He had had enough of human entanglements and simply wanted to be left to himself for the rest of his time on God's green earth. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had different desires. He had left Snape to his lonesome for the first year after Voldemort's defeat, but when Snape displayed no sign of reemergence into society other than teaching, he began to subtly, and then not so subtly, point out to Snape the values of companionship. Snape smirked as he thought of their various discussions. Dumbledore saw only good in partnership. What good was loneliness? Snape saw partnership as limiting, troublesome, and ultimately pointless. What good was co-dependence? When Dumbledore had left the subject untouched for a month, Snape had thought it dropped, but at the revelation of the headmaster's latest scheme in the name of academics, his suspicions rose. Was Dumbledore really just looking for information on a particularly hideous decade, or was there another reason for this roadtrip?

Suddenly a pair of looming glasses interrupted his thoughts. Snape stopped his fast-paced stalking (he had forgotten that he was running but refused to admit as much in his own mind) and looked down in annoyance at Minerva McGonagall. Her face was wearing its usual severe expression, but he could see a trace of amused curiosity in her eyes.

"I wonder what it is that could make the most-feared professor in the history of Hogwarts run through the hallways like a scared child?"

Snape glared down hard at her, hoping she would decide it best not to push the subject. When she continued to stare at him unblinking, he sighed slightly, remembering that his former teacher had never been intimidated by him. He looked at her again, letting only a little of his dejection show on his features. "Dumbledore."

McGonagall blinked, with a _what-has-he-made-you-do-now_ look.

Snape just shook his head at her. "You do not want to know," he responded to her unasked question and abruptly strode away.

Minerva watched Snape for a brief moment before deciding she _did_ want to know. And when an extremely irate-looking Hermione rounded the corner and stormed past without a second glance, her curiosity only grew.

* * *

Hermione slammed the doors to her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to stop thinking about what had transpired in the last hour. _Only good thoughts. Go to your happy place. Zen_...Eight seconds later she gave up and sat upright. She grabbed two pillows and promptly threw one across the room and punched the other one, finally free to vent her frustration after pretending compliance in the presence of Dumbledore. When had he decided that she was incapable of conducting the project on her own? She supposed it was not entirely unreasonable for him to be worried about her safety; however, the fact that he wanted someone else there to supervise her research felt like a slap in the face. It was as though her degree in Muggle Studies was meaningless. Even worse, though, was that her escort was to be Severus Snape.

Snape had never liked her. Now that they taught the same students, that fact had not changed. He was polite, even civil, but most definitely not friendly. Hermione smothered a groan in yet another pillow. How was she to survive traveling with the man? He had barely spoken ten words to her since she began teaching at Hogwarts two years ago.

Hermione lay back on the bed once more, her tumultuous thoughts beginning to slow. Everything in her wanted to curl into a ball and hide from Snape and Dumbledore for the next month. Rationale and denial battled within Hermione as she lay with her eyes closed, willing it all to disappear, but the adult in her knew that denying the situation would only postpone the inevitable. With a defeated sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that she would be spending three weeks trapped in a car with Snape.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall burst into Dumbledore's office without so much as a knock. Dumbledore promptly glanced up from his record player and grinned.

Minerva strode up to his desk, never looking away from the smug look on Dumbledore's face. "What have you done?"

Dumbledore looked away, shuffling some papers on his desk, grin slipping. "Why, Minerva, I have no idea what you are referring to."

"You know full well what I am referring to."

"I'm afraid I do not. Look, a record player! Now, Minerva," turning to face her with that idiotic grin back in place, "it would be a shame to have music and no dancing. Shall we?"

McGonagall quickly snatched the record Dumbledore was about to start playing. "Don't change the subject!"

"But I thought you liked it when I was romantic..."

"Albus."

"...and spontaneous."

She pointed at Dumbledore and shook her accusing fist in his face. "You were _matchmaking_!"

Dumbledore feigned shocked outrage at such an allegation. "I would never!"

"Oh, _please_ spare me, Albus! You have been dying to get Snape paired off and you know it." Minerva sat down, exasperated. "And after you promised you would stop playing God! For shame!"

Dumbledore had found another record and was zealously trying to play it. "Severus has been alone for far too long," he replied, struggling with the needle. "Besides, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were practically made for each other." _Scratch_. "Merlin's beard!"

Minerva distractedly reached out for the troublesome needle and, replacing the unusable disc, effortlessly placed it on a scratch-free record. Yes, even Minerva had to admit that Snape and Hermione were two opposites that would definitely attract, given the right circumstances. They were about as different as granite and cotton balls. She burrowed her brow in thought. Forgetting herself, she looked at Dumbledore. _The damn fool may have been on to something_.

Dumbledore smiled in triumph. Minerva immediately grimaced. _This isn't over_, she sent through her eyes. Dumbledore nodded in acquiescence. She quickly strode out of the office, eager to get away from Dumbledore's probing eyes. She hated that he could see what she was thinking so easily. But she wasn't angry that he had pushed his way into her mind, or even that he had so ruthlessly fixed Snape and Hermione up. She was just angry that she hadn't thought of the pair first.

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**Yay, chapter two! Much thanks to Softballchick dreaowa, Joy Cutting, siriuslyblack04, and kiwi6498 for reviewing!**

**I can almost promise that the next chapter will be posted within five days. Sorry for the long delay (college is sort of kicking my ass right now). I can also promise that from here on out the chapters will be longer and there will be more dialogue and more jokes. I know that up until now there hasn't been much talking among characters. Trust me, once we trap Snape and Hermione in a car together, that is sure to change.**

**Please review! Seriously, it makes my day. If you see anything that you think should be edited or revised, if you have any questions, or even if there is something you would like to see in later chapters, let me know in review or email. **

**All Harry Potter characters were used without permission. They are the copyright of J.R. Rowling and Warner Bros. They are used with consideration and with no intent to make money.**

**Peace and love homies!**


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the long wait guys. Finals season. Craziness. Need I say more?

Here's chapter three. Hooray! We finally have Severus cornered:evil grin:

Onward...

* * *

Hermione was about to knock on the dungeon's door when a faint sound stopped her fist in midair. At first she thought she was hearing things, but then she heard it again. Without hesitation she leaned her small frame against the door, pressing her ear to the wood, straining to hear. Music in Severus Snape's private quarters? As a student she would have thought it impossible; she was having a hard enough time believing it now as a professor.

Suddenly the music stopped. Hermione pressed harder against the door, trying to hear more. Just as she did, the door swung inwards. A small "eep!" was out of Hermione's mouth before she realized it, too startled to stop it from surfacing as she flew forwards. She closed her eyes tightly in anticipation of a cruel impact with the cold stone floor but was surprised to find it soft and rather warm. She opened her eyes but could only see black. She blinked confusedly, but before she could comprehend that her face was rubbing against fabric instead of stone, she was pulled backwards to a standing position, and suddenly before her was a smirking Snape.

Severus had been putting books in a trunk, cursing Dubledore vehemently in his mind, when the hair on his arms raised, the goosebumps his warning that someone had violated his wards. He quickly turned off the obnoxious music that he couldn't believe he was listening to (and would never admit to liking for anything in the world) and strode to the door, expecting a knock at any second. When none was heard, he had snatched the door open in an attempt to catch the perpetrator, most likely a student trying to pull a prank on the mean old greasy Potions Professor. A small "eep!" and a body hurtling at him caught him off guard. His reflexes acted before his brain as he reached out to catch the person; if he had been thinking clearly, he would have let the offending party fall painfully on the floor. A glance down told him that the person he was how holding close to his chest was not a student. Pulling the person slightly from his body, he saw that it was Hermione Granger, and he quickly schooled his face into its well-practiced smirk and pulled her to her feet.

"That's what you get for spying on me."

Hermione gaped at him. How had he known she was there? _Had_ he?

Snape was growing impatient. Had the girl—_woman_, he reminded himself—hit her head to hard on his chest, or maybe on the door during her fall? Why was she just standing there? Then Snape remembered. She hadn't heard...?

"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?" he asked, trying to sidestep _that_ conversation. "Surely you came to my rooms for some other purpose than eavesdropping?"

It worked. Hermione snapped out of her stupor and sent him a mild glare. "Of course, Professor. I came to inform you that Dumbledore would like us to leave tomorrow morning. He has an automobile reserved for us in Boston, and he will give us his itinerary requirements"—involuntary shudder from Snape—" and money for the trip."

Hermione eyed Snape carefully. _What? Am I supposed to say something?_ Snape thought, annoyed at her prolonged presence.

"Alright."

More silence.

"Tomorrow morning then."

Hermione nodded. Snape glared at her. Why was she still there? Inwardly rolling his eyes, he walked around her to the door and looked back at Hermione expectantly, who was now staring at his bed. She pointed at it and, turning to him with disbelief on her face, exclaimed,

"Is _that_ your luggage?"

Snape glowered. Who was she to criticize his choice in luggage? In a dangerous tone, he replied, "Yes, what of it? I suppose yours is more tasteful?" It was on the tip of his tongue to inform her just how much this luggage cost him, but before he could spitefully spit this out, she started to go through his books.

"Professor, forgive me, but this will not do. You cannot bring all of this!" she told him pointedly. Gesturing to the seven oversized trunks already packed and orderly arranged at the foot of the bed, she asked, "What is in those?"

Snape seemed rooted to the spot, hardly believing that she had the audacity to look through his belongings and question his packing skills. "Why do I need to tell you that, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at him in bewilderment. "Do you really think you can take all of this with us? It's physically impossible!"

Snape simply sneered at her. "You have no right to question my choices in _packing_, nor practice such ignorance in my quarters. Leave!" he retorted, opening the door flush to the wall to further emphasize his point.

Hermione was angry. She stalked to the door past the glowering Snape and started out the door, but turned on her heel back to face him.

"I apologize, _Professor_. I was only trying to help you. You will recall that Dumbledore expressly forbade the use of magic on this trip. You will not be able to minimize your trunks. We will have to portkey them with us."

She stalked out of the room, leaving him with a chagrined expression on his face. He was furious with himself for forgetting that detail. Damn Dumbledore and his damn rules! Thinking quickly, Snape knew what he had to do.

"Miss Granger, wait--"

The sound of retreating footsteps ceased, then grew louder as Hermione returned to the door, a sour expression on her face. She looked at him, one eyebrow raised in an ironically Snape-like fashion.

_Sigh_. "As much as this pains me, I'm afraid I need to ask for your assistance."

Hermione glared at him. "Really? After chasing me from your quarters, you expect me to help you _pack_?"

Snape averted his eyes, knowing full well that he had deserved that. "The truth is, I have never been on, what you have termed, a 'roadtrip'. I have no idea what to expect, or what to bring..." He looked over at his trunks with a slightly panicked expression. Hermione bit her lip to keep from snickering at the suddenly amusing circumstances. At her silence, Snape took up the defensive once again. Turning back to her, he quickly added, "The more you help me now, the less trunks you have to drag with you through the streets of Boston!"

Hermione looked like she was about to retort but bit back any reply she had formed in her mind, clearly weighing out the pros and cons. With a reluctant nod, she stepped further into the room and pausing by the packed trunks and asked, "May I open these?" Snape grimaced but nodded, knowing it was the only way to get her help. _Besides, on this trip we are likely to get to know each other and each other's things very intimately_, he thought.

Hermione opened the trunk closest to her to find it full of bottles of individual potions, each bottle individually wrapped in tissue paper to protect it. She shook her head. _Why would they need this many potions?_

Snape, seemingly reading her mind, haltingly said, "You never know..."

Hermione just looked at him and shook her head. He acquiesced. Levitating the trunk, he took it back to his private potion stores and began to sullenly put the bottles away in their correct places. Hermione bit back a chuckle and opened the next trunk, which was full of blankets, pillows, wool socks, a hot water bottle, and, shockingly, a soft satin eye mask. She threw a disbelieving look over her shoulder at Snape, who was still busily restocking the shelves. Deciding to give him a break, she quickly pulled all everything out of the trunk and placed it all neatly on the corner of the bed, making sure the mask was hidden underneath the blankets. She then opened the third and fourth trunks, each full of robes, shirts, and pants. She sorted them out on the bed as well. Snape had finished replacing the potions and had walked over behind her, watching in horror as she removed his things from the luggage. Hermione turned to start on another trunk and started on seeing him standing there. Catching his gaze, she calmly informed him,

"You can only bring one trunk with you."

Snape had a difficult time hiding a gasp. "The journey is going to be at least three weeks long!" he said incredulously.

Hermione gaped at him. "You really have never been on a roadtrip, have you?"

"You are testing my patience, Miss Granger."

"_Professor_ Snape, I am no longer your student! If you wish me to help you then treat me with the respect I deserve as your colleague!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth, looking more like a scared second year than the professional she was insisting she be recognized as. She carefully eyed Snape, expecting him to fly into a rage and throw her out of his rooms, but surprisingly he didn't. He remained rooted to the spot, curiously watching her with surprise, then a flash of anger and finally admission showing in his eyes. In an uncharacteristic move, further astounding Hermione, he dropped his eyes and nodded. "Of course, Professor. I apologize."

Hermione let the surprise she was feeling show on her face for a split second before turning her head back to the trunks. With a deep breath, she opened yet another trunk and did a double take.

"_Shoes_? This is full of shoes!"

This time Snape did get angry. He bellowed, "You never know!", which was quickly becoming a refrain for him.

Hermione was digging hastily through the footwear. "You never know _what_? Half of these are the same!" she retorted, pulling out several pairs of black leather boots. "You only need one pair of these, I promise. If they get dirty, you wash them off. If they get wet, they will dry. Let's see, you will not need riding boots, because I assure you we will not be using horses for transportation at any point. Slippers...well, the slippers can stay, they don't take up much room. (pause) More riding boots! No, these have to go." And so she continued, enjoying her position of power, as minute as it may have been. Who would have guessed Severus Snape was a _shoe_ person? With every pair she discarded, Snape looked like he was losing a piece of his soul. His face, of course, showed no expression, but she could see a faint glimmer of loss in his eyes. This was turning out to be kind of fun.

"_Flip-flops_?"

Hermione was sure the world had come to its end. First of all, she was holding a pair of atrociously red—no, _fuschia_--flip-flops. Second of all, said flip-flops had been retrieved from a trunk belonging to and packed by Severus Snape. Third of all, Severus Snape was _blushing_.

"What could you possibly need these for?" she asked.

Snape shrugged his shoulders slightly and averted his eyes, looking anywhere but at the amused face and offending sandals. _Why me?_

Hermione was enjoying herself far too much. She stood with sandals in hand, strode over to the potions master, looked him squarely in the eye, and, pushing the sandals against his chest for added emphasis, said in mock seriousness, "You have a sickness!"

Normally she would have died before getting up the nerve to criticize him, or touch him for that matter.

Normally he would have started knitting a pretty purple scarf before allowing a former student to rifle through his belongings and so blatantly confront him.

Normally they would have never voluntarily have been in such close proximity to each other for this long. But both were becoming subtly more comfortable with the other's presence, and looking down at the pink flip-flops that now spanned the distance between their bodies, and then back at each other, they both began to smile, then try to hide their smiles, then suddenly start to laugh.

They laughed together, not loudly or obnoxiously, just quiet chuckles. And both realized that this roadtrip might not be as altogether horrible as each had imagined it would be.

* * *

Dumbledore chose this moment to appear in Snape's fireplace. It took a few seconds before either Hermione or Severus noticed his presence, just long enough for the Headmaster to observe the two standing no more than eight inches apart and laughing quietly. 

Snape suddenly registered the "whoosh" he had heard as his floo around the same time Hermione did and both quickly stepped away from each other. Snape inwardly groaned. The last thing he needed was for Dumbledore to have seen him standing so close to a woman, staring into her eyes, laughing no less. He whirled to face him but could see no trace of amusement in the old man's face.

"Wonderful, both of you are here!" Dumbledore exclaimed from the fireplace. "Saves me a trip. Although, I must say I would never have expected to find you two here, together."

"I was just helping Professor Snape pack."

Snape sent a glare in Hermione's direction. She caught his eye and bit her bottom lip, trying to keep from laughing. _Don't you dare..._

"Well, that was very thoughtful of you dear," Dumbledore replied, taking the new information in stride. Then, looking around and noticing for the first time the massive piles of clothes, blankets, and shoes on the bed, "Severus, you can't mean to take _all_ of this with you?"

Snape just about snapped. "No."

Dumbledore looked relieved. "Good. Well then, I just wanted to tell the both of you that you leave tomorrow morning at nine. I will meet you at the front entrance to the castle then. Good evening. And, Severus," with a slight twinkle in his eye, "it would suit you to lighten up more." And with that the troublesome Headmaster was gone.

Snape closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dumbledore had seen. At least he was escaping the old man's grasp tomorrow morning. Old, cunning, devious, _evil _devil of a man—

A voice invaded his ominous thoughts. "He's right, you know."

Snape opened his eyes quickly. Was she going to tease him too?

"This trip is only three weeks long, and you can bring with you only one trunk. Therefore you need to lighten up like Dumbledore said. Pack one week's worth of clothing, and only the essentials."

He could have sighed in relief. She had taken the old man literally. But...

"That still leaves the question of what I am to wear for two of the three weeks."

Hermione had returned to sorting through Snape's trunks. "It would be impractical to bring clothing to last three weeks. The lodgings we will stay at will have laundry facilities, and we will wash our clothes as needed." Opening the sixth trunk, she shook her head. As she removed the food items, she informed him that it was customary to eat at restaurants regularly while traveling. "Dumbledore will be giving us money, so there will be no need to bring along any food."

Snape was relieved. One trunk did not seem so daunting any more.

Hermione walked over to the last trunk and opened it, finding it full of journals, periodicals, books, notes, and various sheets of paper. Snape jumped in quickly. "I was planning on using those while we were traveling. I can't justify three weeks of sitting still without any kind of research."

Hermione looked at him with something like admiration in her eyes. Or was it understanding?

"Of course. But you can't bring all of this with you." Once again Snape was at a loss of what to do. Hermione snapped the lid shut and sat down on top of it. "I am bringing a backpack with just a few books and other things. I couldn't leave it all behind." She looked at him and still sensing some confusion on his part, offered a final suggestion: "Decide on one project, preferably a small one, and bring only the supplies for that one. Obviously you won't be able to test anything in a lab, so bring reading materials and research." Snape nodded. It was the best they could do.

Hermione stood, stretching. "I need to get back to packing myself." She started to walk over to the door, but then seemed to think of something else. Turning back to Snape, she said, "Three weeks of sitting in a car. Remember that. As much as you or I would like to think we could read or research for that long without a break..."

"What are you saying?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm saying, bring something else to occupy your thoughts and your time. Reading for pleasure. Crossword puzzles. You bring a pillow and I'll bring a blanket so we can sleep. Things like that." She resumed her walk across the room. Reaching the door, she turned back and with a carefully blank face added, "And any music you like."

Snape blanched. _Oh, no._ She had heard. Trying to cover, he smirked at her, but before he could sarcastically reply, she cut in. "You won't want to listen to my voice for twenty-one days without a reprieve." With that, she turned on her heel and left the rooms, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Severus wearily sat on the foot of the bed. Closing his eyes once more, he allowed his mind a few seconds of silence. Then, snapping them open again, he reached in between the mattresses and pulled out five CD cases and hastily shoved them into the darkest corner of a trunk. He quickly placed two pairs of shoes around them in an effort to obscure them from his vision. He would just ask Minerva to transfigure something into a portable CD player with headphones. There was no way he would let Hermione in on his secret taste in music.

* * *

Dumbledore returned to his desk, allowing the grin that had been threatening to appear since seeing Severus and Hermione laughing together to finally surface. Minerva looked at him warily. "What now?" 

Dumbledore looked at her gleefully. He might as well have been rubbing his hands together. "Hermione was in Severus's private rooms." Minerva's eyes widened. "She was helping him pack."

Minerva knew there was something else he wasn't telling her. That glint in his eye betrayed him. She sat stiffly in her chair, desperately trying to act aloof and uncaring, but after five minutes of Dumbledore staring at her silently with that idiotic grin on his face, she snapped.

"Spit it out, Albus."

Dumbledore's self-assured grin slowly changed into one of amazement. "He was _laughing_."

Minerva was sure he was lying. But Dumbledore looked back at her in absolute seriousness, and she knew it was true.

Hermione had somehow cracked the Potions Master.

* * *

There she be! I know I promised to deliver Severus in a car, but this idea popped into my head and I couldn't get rid of it. But there is more dialogue! And believe it or not, it makes for a pretty good transition, and the seemingly pointless information here will actually come into play later. Mostly. Some of it is just for kicks. I like making Sev uncomfortable. 

_Severus glares at the author. "Don't call me 'Sev'!"_

_The author backs away slowly. "Sorry, Sev..."_

_Severus takes a menacing step, wand out and ready._

"_...erus! Severus!"_

The good news is that my finals will be over as of May 19th, which means I will have a lot more time to devote to this story, which means faster updates for you! Hooray!

Please review! Honestly, if you're an author you know how much a review can help. If you see anything that you think should be edited or revised, if you have any questions, or even if there is something you would like to see in later chapters, let me know in review or email.

Thanks to everyone who commented!

Softballchick dreaowa: Yes, yes she is. It will get interesting, I assure you. And about the ps: yay! We should start a club or something! Tee-shirts for members...

Mirlanthiriel: Thanks! 70s would be fun too. I almost did it in the 60s so I could use Elvis as my theme. Dumbledore would have had them go to every place he performed as well as any museum and, of course, an obligatory stay in Memphis. I think they will have to make a pitstop there anyway; I can't seem to resist.

KandKL: Indeed. I couldn't have him saying "Dammit!" but that _is_ what he said in my mind. Do you even realize how many inside jokes we're going to have in here? I guess we're just that cool...

Siriuslyblack04: You know I love you. Much thanks! Good luck with finals!

Natsuyori: I would _love_ to get them in a Miada! If I wasn't already set on a Volkswagon van (yes I know it's more sixties than eighties but I don't care! Won't Severus look hilarious in one?)...maybe the van can break down and they can end up in a Miada for the last leg of the trip. We shall see! ;)

KangaRoo526: No worries, this is indeed meant to be a humorous romance. Hopefully that will come across.

rasaaabe: I'm glad you like it! Enjoy!

Much thanks to my beta, Siriuslyblack04! Mwa!

All Harry Potter characters were used without permission. They are the copyright of J.R. Rowling and Warner Bros. They are used with consideration and with no intent to make money.

Peace and love y'all!


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione snuck her third look at the man in the passengers seat. Snape still had his stoic expression fixed on his face, but his body was squirming slightly and his cheeks were flushed. That, and the fact that he was wearing huge headphones that more closely resembled earmuffs than anything else, was enough of a reason for her to be curious.

The two had arrived in Boston, Massachussetts early that morning with luggage in tow (Snape had, in fact, managed to restrict himself to one trunk and one smaller bag, although both looked like they were ready burst open at any given moment). Dumbledore had proudly presented them with a green fuzzy stick, some kind of head attached to one end, and answered the questioning looks of his researchers with a gleeful explanation of "The Glow Worm!". Hermione looked warily at the thing in the Headmaster's hand. After a moment of mildly awkward silence, he squeezed the object.

"It glows!" An exclamation of awe.

More silence.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped in a mock pout. "You two are no fun."

Hermione looked at Snape to see his reaction and was surprised to see him rolling his eyes. Mildly stunned, she came to the realization that she would be seeing more sides of Snape on this trip than she would have ever imagined. She shook her head with an amused smile over the antics of her beloved, slightly odd Headmaster and her once-intimidating professor.

Snape took in the sight of Hermione and her smile, wondering why she found Dumbledore's childish fascination with such a useless object had some sense of humor, but then again, he hadn't spent much time with her outside of his classes so long ago. He realized that they would both have a lot of surprises for each other in the upcoming weeks.

Dumbledore's voices took both away from their introspective thoughts. "This is your portkey. It will take you to Boston, Massechussetts and is charmed to only work one way for now. When you have decided what date you will be ready to return, I will charm it to bring you back here from your starting point in Boston."

Snape hastily interrupted him. "Two weeks. You know now when we are returning, so make a normal portkey, _please_." The last word came out in a hiss. Snape did not like Dumbledore trapping him in America with a woman he hardly knew. Nor did he like that glint that came to the old bastard's as he condescendingly explained that time had to be allowed for things to go wrong, or take longer than planned, or for other things to "happen". Nor did he like the end of that explanation and what it implied.

"How will we contact you?" Hermione questioned. Dumbledore just gave her a smug, I-know-something-you-don't look and said, "Do not worry, we will be in touch."

If Snape was the type to publicly shudder, he would have shuddered. Big time.

The rest of the details had been equally vague. Dumbledore had shoved a wad of Muggle currency in Hermione's hand (proclaiming her "treasurer" for the trip, thoroughly pissing Snape off) then, took one look at his pocketwatch and with a gleeful "grab your trunks!" thrust the Glow Worm in one of Snape's hands and Hermione's elbow in the other. Within a second they were sucked into thin air. Snape thought he saw the old man jumping up and down, grinning like an idiot and...squealing? No...

The pair landed abruptly in the middle of a not-so-busy street in what they could only assume was Boston. Hermione glanced up at Snape, one eyebrow raised. "Did he really say 'weeee!'?"

Snape nodded irately. "I swear, if the old bastard can jump up and down like a giddy child, he is capable of taking this bloody trip himself. Too old my ass..." By this point he had started to stalk toward a busier street, muttering vehemently with trunk in tow. Hermione was trying like a saint to hide her giggles, as she attempted to catch up to the taller man's longer strides. She finally did after one block, but by this point her eyes were watering from the effort expended to internalize her laughter. Snape stopped his muttering and looked down and sideways (AN: she's freaking short!) at the girl now at his side. She could feel the quizzical stare, characteristic eyebrow arched, but refused to look at him, knowing she wouldn't be able to contain herself any longer if she did. A long moment passed.

"Don't laugh at me."

Hermione couldn't do it anymore. A decidly unladylike guffaw burst from her lips making Snape jump in shock. She had to stop walking, doubling over in laughter. When the episode, bewildering as it was to the Potions master, was over, she stood up, wiping tears from her eyes and allowing the last weak whimpers of laughter to escape. Finally she looked over to Snape, who was now a good five feet away wearing a very severe expression, waiting for an explanation.

She shook her head, still laughing lightly. "I...It's just...I just never thought I would ever see you like this. It's so informal."

Snape glowered. Regardless of their circumstances, the fact remained that he was her superior and as such, he deserved respect. He was about to tell her what to do with her informality when an exasperated sigh interrupted his brooding. Hermione walked around Snape to face him and looked him squarely in the eye.

"If we are going to survive the next two weeks, we can_not_ keep on like this. I don't care if_you_ can. I _can't_."

Snape looked down crossly at the small finger rudely poking him in the chest. Then, his face split into a smile far too bright. Hermione withdrew quickly the offending digit, scared beyond reason. This Snape was far too out of character. He gestured wildly with his arms, forcing her to back up in order to avoid being hit by the flailing limbs.

"Is this what you want? A fucking boyscout!"

Hermione turned away quickly, shielding her eyes with one hand. "No, no! That's not what I'm saying. I just want—Put your face back!"

Snape dropped the scary stalker-guy grin immediately. Hermione sighed, shoulders drooping slightly. Snape picked up a handle of his trunk and started forward again. "I'm a creature of habit, Professor. I don't change easily."

Hermione caught up with him. "See? **That's** what I'm talking about. Don't call me that." Snape looked at her in exasperation. "Last night you told me to call you by your professional title. Now you are berating me for following your wishes. Which would you like, Prof—Miss Gra--" his eyes widened in further frustration. "Typical woman," he muttered.

Snape pretended not to notice Hermione stopping in her tracks, as well as the offended little noise she made. He could not, however, ignore the sudden weight on the back of his trunk that threw him off balance, causing him to pitch forward. He managed to catch his fall with his left arm but not before dragging one of his feet through a puddle. Abruptly he snapped upright, whirling around with every intent to land his deadliest glare on the woman who had unnecessarily soggied his socks. When his eyes landed on the petulant figure sitting cross-legged on top of his trunk, however, he could only muster a blank stare.

Pouting slightly, Hermione stood, or rather sat, her ground. "It wasn't the title I wanted from you. It was your respect. Something you are still obviously adverse to showing me."

Snape finally smirked. "Miss Granger, as long as you continue to act as a child I will have no choice but to treat you as one."

"Treat a child as you expect them to behave."

"So you admit that you are a child?"

Hermione shot daggers at the older man. Of course he was right. Why, of all times, did she have to choose this moment to not think before speaking? _Gods_. Removing herself from his trunk she irritably resumed her march down the cobbled street. Passing Snape, who had yet to remove that aggravatingly smug smirk from his face, she raised her chin and refused to look at him.

Snape saw the woman walking past him. He saw the controlled defiance in her eyes, the muted angry flush that can only be gained from age. He saw the matured hourglass figure, those curves that can only be earned with the passage of time. He saw that she had, in fact, grown up. But he also saw the jutting chin and the clenched fist at her side that refused to swing in tandem with her stride and he realized anew that some traits just never become tamed through adulthood.

_Sigh._

The odd-looking pair ended up in front of the car rental company forty-five minutes after their arrival in Boston, still refusing to speak to each other. It had really only taken them ten to get there from the mouth of the alleyway; needless bickering, flailing arms, sitting on trunks and tripping through puddles had accounted for the other thirty-five.

They had reached the busy street and Snape had pulled out a map (where he had gotten it was Hermione's guess). He looked at it...and looked at it...and looked at it, his brow furrowing a little more with every passing second. Suddenly the map was ripped out of his hands. _Multiple...so many papercuts..._ A quick swing of his head to the right found Hermione flipping the map over, and then over again. Snape was not angry. Angry is when you find out your girlfriend cheated on you with your best friend. No, Snape wasn't angry. He was pissed. Pissed that he had been blackmailed into such a stupid situation. Pissed that he had no control over anything. _Well, not **anything**..._

The map vaporized in front of Hermione, who stood there with her arms extended to the sides and looking through them at the cabs whizzing by. Snape glared at her, flipping the map once again, and fixated his eyes on the map. Sure enough, within seconds a small hand was reaching for the bottom of the map, but Snape had been expecting her to fight back. He deftly lifted the map over his head, out of reach of the flailing girl. By the time the stranger had caught their attention, Hermione was jumping up and down on her trunk vainly snatching at thin air as Snape held the map just barely out of reach.

The man stood facing the odd couple, paying no heed to the pedestrians grumpily working their way around him as he obstructed their path. Ironically he was drawing more attention than the couple across the street; perhaps Boston was accustomed to random acts of childish fighting in its streets. The man internally sighed, although showing no outward signs of discomfiture. America and England could be so alike at times and yet so completely opposite.

Hermione was the first to notice. She stopped her jumping and gazed back at the man who seemed to have no qualms hiding his curiousity. Snape, still holding the map as high as he could, glanced sideways at his now still companion, then followed her gaze to the other side of the street.

Three people stared at each other for what felt like several minutes, one observing and the other two curious as to why they were worthy of observation. The encounter in actuality lasted no more than ten seconds. As quickly as the staring contest was initiated it was ended. The stranger abruptly cut off eye contact, turning on his heel and walking with the flow of the foot traffic that was surrounding him. Hermione watched him walk away, then looked confusedly at Snape, who looked back at her equally puzzled.

And then they were back. Hermione jumped up quickly and snatched the map out of a still-perplexed Snape's hands. Snape glowered and tried to snatch it back, but the infuriating girl was already headed down the street, map in hand. He had no choice but to follow. He sincerely hoped she actually knew where she was going.

The duo walked, or rather one walked and one pointedly stalked, into the lobby of the car rental company. A rather disheveled man looked up from his desk. His tie was loose, his dark glasses slightly crooked, and what was left of his hair was either standing on end or lying the wrong way. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Was that smell coming from him too?

Reaching the desk led her to discover that said smell was in fact not from him but from some styrafoam cup full of yellow liquid and weird kinky noodles. Snape eyed the cup with disdain. Hermione decided to be polite despite a strong urge to laugh at the expression on Snape's face.

"Hi, we're—"

"Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. I was told to expect you. Although you are about thirty minutes late," the unkempt man informed them. Snape bristled. "Forgive us, we were not given an itinary detailed to the minute," he snarked. The man blinked.

Hermione was quick to jump in. "Right, well, if you could just give us our car we'll be on our way. A sedan, preferably." Snape glanced at her when he heard the foreign word and was about to ask her what kind of crazy contraption she was trying to trap him in when the annoying bespectacled man in front of him interrupted with a snort of laughter.

"I'm sorry, miss, no sedan for you today. The gentlemen I spoke to has chosen a specific car for you two."

Snape could not contain his groan. "Erm, which vehicle did he chose?" Hermione ventured, doubt evident in her voice. The man pointed out the window to their left.

Hermione gasped. Snape groaned again. Neither seemed able to look away from the red and white 1962 Volkswagen van parked outside.

Snape spoke first. "No. No!"

The man half-smiled at them in sympathy. "Sorry, amigos, he specifically chose this one, and seeing as he is the one paying..."

"No. No!"

Hermione snaked an arm around a shocked Snape's elbow. "It's okay, we'll be fine. This..." not sure what to call it, she settled for pointing, "it's an automatic, right?"

"Oh, no, it's a stick." Now Hermione groaned. The two stood staring forlornly out the window, one trying to remember her father driving his stick-shift when she was a child and the other contemplating which way killing the old coot would derive the most pleasure. The increasingly annoying man cleared his throat, effectively interrupting their thoughts.

"The gentleman also gave me these to pass on to you." He brought out a few boxes from behind his desk: a digital camera, a video camera, a fanny pack (cue Snape groan), and a cellular phone. "He said you would know what to do with these."

Snape snorted. "Yes, thank you. I'll just go put these in the..." Struggling to come up with a proper name for the vehicle, he settled for a grunt. He bent down to grasp the handles of his and Hermione's trunks and whispered, "Let's just get the bloody hell out of here."

Hermione stifled her giggle. "Is there anything else you need from us sir?"

The man shuffled through a few papers. "Um, no, just your signature here and here, saying you received the vehicle and the packages. The gentleman already paid." Hermione signed quickly, grabbed the keys from the man's outstretched hand, and with a hurried "thanks" half-ran out the door. From the looks of it, Snape had already wrestled the trunk door closed with trunks inside. He gruffly took Hermione's backpack from her shoulders and placed it in the backseat with his bag.

"Let's go."

Hermione nodded her agreement and walked to the driver's side, only to meet Snape, who had circled around the back. Snape held out his hand expectantly.

"Professor, have you even driven a stick-shift before?"

Oh, if looks could kill...

"Sir, I think I should drive."

Snape threw down proffered arm angrily. He wanted to argue but knew she was probably right; he had absolutely no knowledge of automobiles, let alone their transmissions. Shoulders slumped, he sighed dejectedly.

"This sucks."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "My, my, how very _informal_ of you, Professor."

"Let's not do this, okay?"

The two crawled into their respective seats, Snape comically wrestling with the seatbelt and Hermione trying not to laugh at his obvious discomfort from being out of his element. She snapped hers into place, and he followed suit, frowning at the now offending piece of cloth.

She placed the key in the ignition and turned to him. "Let's just call each other by our first names." At the expected glare she retorted, "Really, this is ridiculous. I refuse to fight like children the entire trip." There was a stagnant pause, then an acquiescent nod from the passenger's seat. "Okay then."

She turned the key and struggled out of the parking lot, praying to any deity that might be listening to keep them alive until she figured this thing out.

And so they set out, driving on a lone interstate in the middle of the day, sitting in comfortable silence. Somewhere Snape had pulled out his music and started to listen. Hermione was trying to discreetly figure out where he had gotten such an ancient set of headphones. On her fourth peek, he caught her looking and ripped them off his head with an indignant "What! What are you staring at oh so intensely!"

"Nothing!" Glare. "It's just...where did you get those?"

Snape looked back at the obnoxiously huge things he was holding. "Minerva. She transfigured them for me. Why? What's wrong with them?"

Hermione looked back at the road in a last-ditch effort to maintain her look of innocence. "Nothing. They're just...very out of date. I used them when I was a kid, and only a little because they get so hot. It's hard to use them for very long." Reaching behind her seat, she groped through her bag and pulled out her MP3 player and gave it to Snape. "Here. Unplug those and use them." Snape did as she said, putting the little buds in his ears. Now these he could live with. The girl was right: those huge things were hot!

He was just about to unplug the earmuffs from the CD player when he caught Hermione's incredulous expression, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. Just then he realized in horror that he hadn't turned down the volume or paused the CD. _Oh no._

Hermione swung her gaze to first the earmuffs, then to his face.

_Oh no._

"Is that..."

At that choice moment, the earmuffs shrieked the end of the anthem:

"_Hit me baby one more time!"_

A very, very pregnant pause.

"Oh my god!"

Snape buried his head in his hands.

Oh no indeed.

**I'm sorry. I'm a horrible person. That was _way_ to long to have to wait for an update. And all for Britney Spears. It's part of the challenge, I swear! I have to have one person who likes it and one who hates it, and I'm sorry, it would have been far too cliché and easy to have Hermione be the one to listen to it. No worries, there _is_ a plan, I promise.**

**Lot's of inside jokes in this one. Ten cool points if you can identify any references in here. **

**Next on the itinerary: Memphis! Home of Elvis! Yay!**

**Please review! Honestly, if you're an author you know how much a review can help. If you see anything that you think should be edited or revised, if you have any questions, or even if there is something you would like to see in later chapters, let me know in review or email.**

**Thanks to everyone who commented!**

**Softballchick dreaowa: Let's hope so::evil grin:**

**Siriuslyblack04: Thanks dear!**

**BeautifulMisconception: I'm sorry you misunderstood. I was just trying to show Dumbledore's eclectic interest in American muggle culture in the beginning of the story. Only the trip is focusing on the 80s. Thanks for keeping me honest! And, yeah, "thrusty hips" made me giggle, not gonna lie.**

**HRInuyashaFan16: Thanks! I hope it's funny. Sometimes I get nervous that I'm the only one laughing...**

**Texas Dragon: Thanks for sticking with me! And please don't kill me. The challenge required Britney Spears music and it just seemed too obvious to have Hermione as the one listening to it. It will all work out, you'll see.**

**Much thanks to my beta, Siriuslyblack04! Mwa!**

**All Harry Potter characters were used without permission. They are the copyright of J.R. Rowling and Warner Bros. They are used with consideration and with no intent to make money.**

**Peace and love y'all**


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